


Birdy and The Beast

by AKMars



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Harold is Belle, Humor, John is the Beast, M/M, i am truly sorry for this...., mangling of a Disney franchise, no really....I am
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-13 08:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3375341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AKMars/pseuds/AKMars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A random reply to a Tumblr photo, then a reply to a reply led to this gawd-awful monstrosity of a story.  Rating starts at Teen & if I actually finish it, will go up to Explicit from there.  Hang on it's gonna be a bumpy ride!  Inspired by our own Mamahub.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon a Time

Title: Birdy and the Beast  
Rating:T for now (may go up if I finish this absurd thing)  
Pairing: Harold Finch/John Reese  
Characters: Finch, Reese, Fusco, Elias, Scarface and many yet to be named

**beautybeastbeautybeastbeautybeast**

 

To say Harold Finch was unnerved was accurate at the very least. After getting lost in the Manhattan Forest,enduring a freezing downpour, being chased by wolves then summarily thrown from his horse as a result and finally finding himself on the doorstep of a massive,decaying castle was bad enough.

To then find himself ushered into the seemingly deserted edifice by an assortment of sentient and very animated inanimate objects had the poor, bemused inventor more discombobulated than ever. One of these, a very brash and talkative beer keg… _“name’s Lionel, I used to be the captain of the castle guards and made one wicked homebrew in my downtime”_ …took it upon himself to act as guide, after introducing himself of course.

 

_I’m a mess, an eff-in’ mess;  
My mind’s in such distress!_

_Don’t know which way to turn  
To try and find me some redress._

_I’ve lost my arms, lost my legs;  
Now I’m a five gallon keg!_

_I've just gone from dude to dud;  
And my head’s made out of suds!_

 

Following this unexpected outburst of song, the friendly beverage container led Finch to a chamber where a very prim and somewhat bossy armoire named Gianni, demanded his measurements and provided a well-made, stylish suit to the soaked visitor. After dressing, Harold regarded himself in the full-length mirror, resolutely ignoring its whispered comment of _“Very nice monsieur, tu es magnifique!”_

Finch had to admit the ensemble of teal and emerald flattered him and having dry clothes made him feel a bit more confident. The beer keg grunted his approval and rolled over to the door.

“You hungry? Cause I’m telling you, our chef is an absolute genius.” So saying, Lionel led the way to the palace kitchens where Harold was all but abducted by a scarred iron kettle _“his name is Anthony”, the keg whispered “but we just call him Sir.”_ and a baker’s dozen of assorted pewter tankards of dubious appearance.

“So this is the new franchise, eh Fusco?” The kettle looked far from impressed as it circled Finch.

“Yes Sir. Thought maybe Mr. Elias might possibly…” the keg’s quavering request petered out as the kettle turned its cold gaze towards him. Anthony jerked his spout towards the dining room.

“Bring him in, I’ll let the Boss know we have company.”

“Yes Sir!” Lionel hustled the human into a lushly upholstered chair which walked itself up to a beautifully laden table. A wineglass (full of course) appeared at Harold’s elbow and a napkin draped itself across his lap. The candelabras dimmed and on cue the kitchen doors burst open, disgorging a veritable army of wheeled serving carts covered with every edible imaginable. The bounty paraded itself by Harold’s plate, heaping it with an unending array of delicious offerings. The utensils sang cheerfully as they passed.

 

_Chateau Le Pin Pomeral,  
We got bottles enough for all!_

_Leg of turkey and shank of mutton,  
Tasty stuffed mushroom buttons;_

_And the finest Eggs Benedict you ever saaaaaw!!_

 

Through the open kitchen doors, the inventor could see a large iron stove busily tending the dozen pots and pans dotting its surface. The massive range winked at him, baring its grate in an appraising and slightly sinister smile. The kettle Anthony stood at its side, attentive to both his ‘Boss’ and the serving trays.

 _Every household task is accompanied by music it seems_ , Finch mused as he consumed the finest meal he’d had in his entire life. He shrugged his shoulders and accepted another glass of wine. Obviously he was suffering from hallucinations brought on by extreme fatigue and hypothermia as a result of being caught in the storm. _If I am to die of exposure, at least I will be happy as I perish._

 **beautybeastbeautybeastbeautybeast**

 

_Meanwhile, in the West Wing:_

The serenade of the castle’s servants faintly carried through the dark passageways to at last reach the ears of the master of the house. Reese sighed, rolling over on the pile of velvet pillows and comforters so that his back was to his chamber doors. Pointed ears pinned themselves against a luxuriant mane of black and silver. The prince lamented once again his minions’ tendency to alleviate the sorrow of their enchantment by singing. Jonathan Reese, crown prince of a kingdom whose name had been lost to the mists of time, curled his lithe, furred body into a tight ball as he composed himself to sleep.

The royal beast yawned, showing a mouthful of razor sharp teeth as he grumbled to himself. Jon made a mental note to yell at his captain of the guard the next morning before dropping into an uneasy slumber.

 

NOTES: Wow....this is what happens when I freebase a cocktail of my favorite show, Disney musicals and Tumblr!


	2. Realm of Enchantment

Title: Birdy and the Beast  
Chapter II: Realm of Enchantment  
Rating: T  
Pairing: Harold Finch/John Reese

**beautybeastbeautybeastbeautybeast**

_Warm, well-fed and secure in the knowledge that he was still hallucinating, Harold Finch suffered the keg to chivvy him back to Gianni’s chamber. The armoire chuckled fondly as he relieved their guest of his borrowed finery, wrapping the now sleepy human in a soft linen nightshirt and allowing Fusco to tuck Finch into bed._

_Harold gave a huge yawn and snuggled down into the soft yet supportive mattress, sighing in pleasure as he drowsed. His back injury had been aggravated by the fall from his horse and now, thanks to the wine and this luxurious sleeping place, his muscles loosened at last._

_The inventor smiled. **One thing is certain, I feel so wonderful that I don’t care that I will not wake up……**_

**beautybeastbeautybeastbeautybeast**

_nine hours later….._

## BANG!!!!

**“AUUUUUUUUUGGGHHHH!!!”**

Harold Finch was jolted out a sound sleep by his chamber door slamming into the wall and a cartful of enchanted objects bursting into full-voiced song:

****_“Rise and shine, can’t you see?_  
 _That we’ve brought your morning tea!_  
 _For Sencha Green it’s never too early!”_

****_“Buttered scones, toast and jam;_  
 _Scrambled eggs and country ham._  
 _Or perhaps some croissants with honey?!”_

“Hold it guys…he’s disappeared!” Fusco rolled around the side of the bed, worried their new friend had been enchanted as well. 

“False alarm! He’s on the floor.”

“Ow…..” Harold rubbed the large bump on his temple where his skull bounced off the flagstones.

A very dignified physician’s bag waddled through the doorway. “Fear not, Dr. Madani is in the house!”

Finch winced as the bag poked his injury. _Somehow I didn’t think being dead would hurt this much……_

**beautybeastbeautybeastbeautybeast**

_back in the West Wing……_

The pile of blankets stirred and two well-muscled forelimbs emerged from their cocoon, huge claws scoring the stone floor as they stretched. The rest of Reese appeared and shedding his covering of cushions and fabric, the beast stood up on his hind legs.

Jon had long since smashed the castle’s mirrors. He knew what his current form looked like and wished no reminder to stare back at him. The prince shook himself, loose fur and dust caught the morning light and gently dissipated like a fading halo.

Physically, Reese appeared the perfect amalgamation of lion and man. His body was covered with a thick pelt of glossy black, culminating in a glorious mane shot with silver at his temples. A sinewy tail tufted in salt and pepper sprung from the base of his spine and his limbs, though shorter than a human’s, were powerful. He had no trouble walking upright but could and did run on all fours when speed was required. Only his eyes remained the same, their blue depths pools of human sorrow in his cat-like visage.

Jon seldom bothered with clothing, very little remained that fit in any case. Fusco had laid a kilt of green linen out, doubtless hoping that Reese would attempt to act human. Jon snorted, nostrils distending at the sudden expulsion of air. He was torn between irritation and amusement before guilt subsumed him. It wasn’t his servants’ fault they were in this predicament. 

_Jealous of Reese’s position and comely looks, the prince’s own cousin Mark Snow had sought out the mad witch Lady Kara and bargained with her to place a spell on Jonathan and all his house. Snow’s plan was to kill the prince turned beast, then lay claim to Reese’s title and riches. Instead, Jonathan driven mad by predatory rage and instincts tore Mark to shreds._

_Unfortunately, with Snow’s death also died any chance of Reese being returned to his proper form. It wasn’t until years later when an old beggar woman sought bread from the castle’s inhabitant that a shred of hope appeared. Jon had found a measure of control over his beast instincts and instructed his servants to give the woman shelter and food for the night. He kept himself to the shadows, observing her from a place of concealment and not daring to speak._

_The woman, Joan by name, was an adept of the white magic and sensed the curse that had been laid upon the place. In the morning, the hedge witch had vanished, leaving behind a note and a hand mirror._

**_Kindness is as kindly does;  
Heedless of face or form._ **

**_Love from such seed grows;  
And shall return thee to norm._ **

**_Within this mirror look and see;  
To behold the truth of whom you be._ **

_Reese had hidden the mirror in his bedchamber, never daring to look at himself. While he understood that he could find someone who might love him as he was, the enchantment would be broken, he also knew that such a quest was hopeless….for who could ever learn to love a beast?_

Jon sighed and wrapped the kilt about his waist. Grateful as he was for the loyalty of retainers, he still intended to discuss last night’s vocal cacophony with his guard captain. The beast-prince strode to the kitchens, his velvet paws treading a silent path across the marble hallways.


	3. The Mysterious Master

Title: Birdy and the Beast  
Chapter III: The Mysterious Master  
Rating: T  
Pairing: Harold Finch/John Reese

**beautybeastbeautybeastbeautybeast**

 

Still laboring under the assumption he was imagining his current situation, Harold now sat immersed up to his chin in steaming water. Lionel had shown him the bathing room then played valet, putting the inventor’s spectacles safely on a table and passing over a wide selection of sponges and luxurious soaps.

Harold indulged in a thorough wash, even scrubbing his hair clean before rinsing off and sinking back into a fresh batch of hot water. Fusco laughed good-naturedly at Finch’s sigh of contentment.

“Better than being stuck out in that mess, huh? It changed over to snow last night and now there’s a good foot at least on the ground already.”

“I admit I like this much better, friend Fusco.”

The keg twirled his stopper in amusement. “I’ve seen ya naked, call me Lionel.”

Finch laughed, more so at the absurd scenarios his brain was conjuring for him than the keg’s joke. “Very well, Lionel. I must say I am surprised as to the nature of this castle and its inhabitants…you all were most _unexpected_ to say the least.”

“Enchanted castles full of talking furniture and utensils not an everyday thing for you then,” the keg rattled in annoyance. “What is your name anyway? I can’t just keep thinking of you as ‘Glasses’!”

“Oh, my apologies.” Fever dream or not, the inventor saw no reason for a lapse in polite behavior to be acceptable. “My name is Harold Finch. I am…was, I suppose I should say, an inventor.” He smiled.

“And no, magic of any kind is not something I have any experience with.”

The keg rocked in place, as if nodding. “Well…the short answer is we’re all under a curse. I mean, the prince was cursed and we got caught in the backlash…kinda’ collateral damage so to speak.”

Finch gasped. “How terrible! Did he…did he die?”

“Prince Reese? Nah. I think he wishes he was dead though. I’m sure you two will meet eventually. He uh….tends to keep to himself.”

“Is he injured then?” Harold asked as he climbed out of the tub. He gratefully took the towel Lionel handed him and began to dry off.

Not _injured_ exactly, but he’s changed that’s for sure. Stays in the West Wing most of the time and” the keg coughed diplomatically, “I’d recommend steering clear of that part of the castle. Prince Reese likes his privacy.”

Finch was eaten up with curiosity, though he gave no outward sign. Would he in fact meet his host before he died and this wonderful dream ended? And why create a prince in the first place?

Harold blushed, wrapping the towel around his waist. _Because this is **my** fantasy and a handsome, mysterious prince is **exactly** what I would wish for._ He dressed quickly to hide his ‘excitement’ at these thoughts.

Once again Finch stood before the mirror (blessedly silent this time). Today he donned an elegant morning suit of medium gray. The well-fitted knee breeches and tailcoat were dapper additions to the ensemble, as were the charcoal silk stockings and brown buckle shoes. He smiled, liking what he saw.

The wardrobe sniffed approvingly. “It is a privilege to clothe a man who appreciates fine tailoring.”

Harold lowered his head modestly, pleased all the same by the praise. He did think he cut a rather splendid figure but acknowledged that much of the credit went to the garments themselves rather than his looks.

“ _Merci, Messir Gianni._ Your eye for color and style is sheer genius.”

Gianni stood tall and proud, satisfaction oozing from every join as keg and human quit the bedchamber.

“Wanna look around a little?” Lionel asked.

“Is that permitted?”

“Yeah sure, as long as we stay,”

“Out of the West Wing.” Harold finished for him.

Fusco guffawed. “You got it, professor.”

 

**beautybeastbeautybeastbeautybeast**

 

_meanwhile, in the kitchens_

Reese lapped up a bowl of _café au lait_ with a delicacy most at odds with his fearsome appearance. He’d just bolted down a full haunch of venison (rare of course) and the familiar warmth of his favorite morning beverage soothed him…so much so that he found himself engaged in a lively conversation with the castle chef.

 _Signor_ Elias had been with the royal family for decades. The round faced, avuncular Italian had always been fond of the young prince and as Reese grew to manhood, Jon came to realize the full extent of ‘Uncle Carlos’ business ventures. Indeed the former don and the savvy prince understood one another perfectly.

Each of necessity had committed acts rather amoral in nature in their respective pasts but both valued loyalty and family above all else. As Jon ruled the kingdom, so Elias ruled the castle staff and all ran smoothly, even in the face of their enchantment.

A loud clattering interrupted them as an elaborately decorated abacus bounced into the kitchen. Tao, the royal accountant had always been an inveterate gossip and the recent happenings had fueled his passion for rumor-mongering no end.

“Hey Carl….wow! What a party last night. That stranger is something else! Pretty easy on the eyes too, for an old geezer.”

Reese wiped a paw across his mouth. “What stranger?”

The abacus yelped as he realized who else was in the room and flicked a glance at his friend. 

The stove, who had been making shushing gestures behind the beast’s back rolled his eyes as the prince turned his attention from Tao to him. 

“Is there a stranger here, Elias?” Reese glared at the range.

“There is my prince. He arrived last night in the midst of the storm.”

Leon snorted with laughter. “Ate like a horse and drank like a fish before passing out in Gianni’s room.” The abacus gulped as his master focused on him. 

“What else did you hear, Leon?”

“Um…I....”

“Captain Fusco has been watching him, Your Highness. He will make certain our guest comes to no harm.” Elias regarded the enchanted prince speculatively.

“It might be worth greeting him. I doubt he ended up here by the whims of mere chance. Perhaps this is an opportunity for….. _change_ , My Prince.”

 _A man….a human male…._ thought Reese, dropping to all fours and pacing restlessly around the kitchen. The good witch Joan couldn’t have divined Jon’s attraction to his own sex….could she?

A thousand damsels might storm the castle gates and although Reese would never cause harm to any of them, not a maid alive stood any hope of winning his heart. _But a man….perhaps this man…_

“Of course I realize what it may mean…I am no fool, Elias!”

The stove murmured an apology.

“Tell me about him.” Jon settled on his haunches and listened as the chef described, in careful detail their unexpected visitor.

Reese’s tail twitched with interest. The more he heard about this Harold Finch, the more intrigued he became. _He must be a scholar of some stripe. What was it Carl said, ‘Slight of build and noble of mien.’? I need to learn more._

“I will see this stranger, but tell him nothing of me. I will reveal myself in my own time.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” Carl couldn’t help but smile, knowing Fusco had probably blabbed his spigot off to Finch already. He’d known his prince long enough to see that Jon’s curiosity had been piqued. There was a look about Reese now that the stove hadn't seen in a very long time. _There's something there that wasn't there before._


	4. Seen and Unseen

Title: Birdy and the Beast  
Chapter IV: Seen and Unseen  
Rating: T  
Pairing: Harold Finch/John Reese  
Tags: moderate M/M beast on man interactions

NOTES: this chapter contains M/M interactions (not explicit) between a human and an intelligent human/beast. If this is not your cup of tea, then please do not read this chapter. This is your final warning! (overkill on my part I know but I'm just playing it safe)

**beautybeastbeautybeastbeautybeast**

 

Finch, having persuaded the beer keg of his need for some ‘alone time’, wandered along a side corridor until he stumbled across a room that was free from singing servants. He shut the door behind him and paced the perimeter of the modestly sized chamber, taking in every detail.

It seemed to be a trophy room. An impressive array of weapons edged, blunt, projectile and all deadly, covered every square inch of wall. Strangely enough, although an enormous bearskin rug lay before the stone fireplace, not one head or set of antlers was to be found.

The inventor stole a heated glance at the bruin’s hide. Harold always had, contrary to his ascetic lifestyle, been a closet sensualist; reveling in the touch of fine fabric and fur against his skin. Taking a deep breath, Finch slipped off his shoes and stepped onto the pelt.

It was one of the great white bears that roamed the icy northern wastes. The hide itself was soft and pliable, the fur plush and in its prime. _Surely this is the work of a master taxidermist!_

Harold maneuvered his stiff form until he was seated on the rug, digging his stocking-clad toes down into the thick hair. The flames were mesmerizing, their warmth seeping into the inventor’s bones, soothing him even more. He let out a huge yawn and pulled off his glasses. _Such a strange, strange dream this is. I wonder when this supposedly cursed prince will appear._

Setting the spectacles aside, he lay down facing the fire. _I shall be most put out if this all ends without a liaison of some sort. I would welcome the feel of a lover’s strong arms once more before I die…… it has been such a long time._

**beautybeastbeautybeastbeautybeast**

 

_somewhere nearby….._

The prince navigated the castle’s network of hidden passages with negligent ease. He had explored them from almost the time he’d first learned to walk. Now, thirty-odd years later he knew every turn, junction and secret door. 

This day he was systematically working his way through the maze to locate their visitor. Reese carried no torch, his beast’s eyes had no trouble with the darkness. It was his nose, however that Jon relied on now to track down this mysterious Harold Finch. He paused by every hidden panel and door to sniff along their edge, searching for any hint of strange scent.

The next door he came to led to his personal weapons cache. The castle armory was opposite the holding cells in the north tower but the arms Prince Reese preferred were kept in this chamber. Fusco referred to it jokingly as ‘The Closet of Doom’. Thinking there was no possibility of Finch taking refuge there, Jon almost passed it by. A faint trail of scent came to his nose… _male, undertones of ink, parchment and metal?_ The beast’s ears flicked in confusion, both at Finch’s scent and the fact that he was here in the first place. Moving as quietly as possible, Jonathan eased the panel open and slipped inside the room.

Thrown into shadow by the brightness of the fire, the older man’s figure was nevertheless still clearly visible to the transformed prince’s eyes. His gaze never leaving the still form curled up on the rug, Jon padded closer on velvet quiet paws. At last he stood, his black-furred toes just brushing the bear skin. Jon loomed over the unconscious man, taking every detail of Finch’s clothing and body. The beast’s own lips twitched with the urge to mimic the sleeper’s contented smile.

 _He’s not afraid! He looks as calm as if he were resting in his own bed._ Reese’s ears flicked in puzzlement. Apparently, there was more to their visitor than met the eye…..although, the prince admitted to himself, what he _did_ see pleased him greatly. This Harold Finch was undoubtedly a scholar. His hands though scrubbed clean, still showed faint ink-stains along one fingertip. The fine clothing suited Finch. 

_Slight of build indeed…but quite comely._ Jonathan felt his skin flush beneath his glossy coat of fur. He'd given up on thoughts of love being his salvation decades ago. There was something about this unusual stranger however that awakened long-dormant stirrings within Reese. On impulse, he leaned down and inhaled deeply at the base of the inventor’s neck. The fine nuances of Harold’s personal musk were like the finest cologne to the prince’s sensitive nose. He sniffed up towards Finch’s ear, straddling the sleeping man with his forelegs without realizing it. 

The inventor shifted in his sleep, one arm reaching out until his hand fell against a massive paw. Reese froze at the sudden touch, holding his breath as he waited for Finch’s exclamation of horror. The beast was unprepared for the sleepy, pleased mumble from the man beneath him and for the sensation of fingers ruffling his fur. Blue eyes flicked down to see Harold stretch out his other hand and come into full contact with Jon’s great barrel chest.

“Mmmmm….soft.” The inventor’s voice was content and his body wriggled closer to the prince’s until the older man was pressed fully against the beast’s form. Reese lowered himself down at Finch’s side. Harold, still asleep, smiled wider and rubbed his face in the thick black fur. He sighed and settled back into deeper slumber. Jon studied the man at his side in confusion. _Now what do I do?_


End file.
